


Second Star to the Right

by LiquidLobotomy



Series: A Good Man Goes to War [9]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Flynn never shuts his gob, M/M, Maldraxxus (Warcraft), Much needed conversations, Not Canon Compliant, Platonic Bedsharing, World of Warcraft: Shadowlands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27835750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiquidLobotomy/pseuds/LiquidLobotomy
Summary: A redeemed soul struggles with his eternal purpose within the Shadowlands, while our group of heroes face harsh truths while boarded on the small carrack, the Lion’s Whelp, on their way to Northrend.
Relationships: Arthas Menethil/Jaina Proudmoore, Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, Mathias Shaw/Edwin VanCleef [mentioned], Taelia Fordragon/Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn [mentioned]
Series: A Good Man Goes to War [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923286
Comments: 42
Kudos: 31





	1. When to Fold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The second star to the right  
>  Shines in the night for you  
> To tell you that the dreams you plan  
> Really can come true_  
> Recommended Listening - Second Star to the Right, from ( _yes_ ) Peter Pan

_Fresh fallen snow. The thrill of the hunt. A babe growing strong in her womb._

_Durotan._

“Are you even listening?” Vashj droned lazily, waving one of her clawed hands to get her attention. “Lost in your former life again?” 

Draka dragged the whetstone harshly across her dagger with a huff. “Not especially,” she grumbled. “You and I both know that it serves no purpose to dwell in the past,” she added, keeping her voice even so as not to bely her evasion.

“Depends on the past, I suppose,” Vashj purred, reaching out a second hand to idly stroke the head of her minion, Khaliiq, as if she were a faithful pet and not a deadly assassin in her service. “You need a minion,” she suggested. “These Aranakk are quite _useful_ companions, isn’t that right, my dear?” The spider-like creature purred under her ministrations.

Draka rolled her eyes. “I do not want for companionship, Vashj,” she muttered as she continued to sharpen her blades. “I serve our House by my own hand.”

“And you do such a _splendid_ job of it, darling.” The former naga smirked, leaning her chin against one of her lower hands. “Don’t tell me you were the same solitary soul in life that you are in death. It would make for such a pitiful and boring existence.”

The orc warrior stilled her hand as she grit her teeth in annoyance. She had accepted her fate as it had been handed to her, all that time ago. Seldom did she let her mind question what had become of her mate, hoping he found as much purpose in his afterlife as she had found in hers. They had their time together, and it had been fulfilling, short as it had been. She used the memories only as a mantra to keep her focus, to ground her in her duty. 

She put down the whetstone and tested the blade, satisfied in the honed edge. The soft clack of spindled arachnid steps against the slate floor of the common room brought her from her thoughts.

“Baroness, sir?” Kearnen changed to her human form as she approached. “The Margrave has requested an audience.” 

“Oh, _someone's_ in trouble,” the naga drolled. 

“Not all of us disobey to get a job done, Vashj,” Draka muttered as she rose to follow. 

“Margrave’s favorite,” the naga sneered. “Be a dear and lick his cloak-tails when you’re done.”

Draka ignored her as she and Kearnen crossed into the vast hallway leading towards the Margrave’s suite in the necropolis, thankful that she respected the Baroness’ discomfort in the arachnid form she had chosen in the afterlife. She chanced a glance at the young woman walking beside her. She hadn’t been with them long, newly judged recently, but she had adapted to their ways quite quickly. Draka suspected that perhaps Kearnen had a similar calling in life.

“How old were you?” Draka asked curiously. She felt Kearnen still in her steps, clearly taken aback at the inquiry. 

“No one has asked me that before,” the Blade replied. She glanced down, thoughtfully. “Thirty-two, thirty-three, I suppose?”

Draka nodded. “What do you remember?” 

“Bits and pieces, here and there,” Kearnen said with a shrug, “if I let my mind idle.” She grew quiet for a moment before inhaling a sharp breath. “I think I may have gotten my best friend killed, but I can’t be certain. I keep expecting for him to be the next to go before the Margrave after a judgement,” she added softly, “but he never is.”

The pair shared a pregnant pause. It wasn’t necessarily a fate that she would bestow if she could. What good would it do if she had wished the same for Durotan? Draka inclined her head to the chamber door. “Come, Kearnen. Let us see if your friend has indeed arrived.”

When they entered, Kearnen stepped away to the shadows near the door, dropping back into her Aranakk form. The Margrave had his back towards them, seemingly deep in conversation with thin air. 

Draka cleared her throat as she approached and knelt on one knee. “You sent for me, my lord.”

“That I did,” rasped Akarek, reaching out a spindly hand to motion for Draka to rise. “You have truly proven yourself a trusted disciple, Draka.” The Margrave stepped aside, revealing a small shadow crouched behind him. The creature scrambled to place himself back behind the lord. “I believe it is now time for the student to become the mentor.”

“My lord?” Draka furrowed her brow, looking up to her master. “You wish for me to take on a charge? A newly judged?” Her head snapped at the sound of a harsh hiss coming from Kearnen.

“What in the hell is _that_ doing here?” she snarled, coming to stand just behind Draka, her teeth bared.

“Kearnen,” the orc admonished. “It is never our place to judge.” She fixed the Aranakk with a firm glare. It was evident that the arachnid recognized the creature, but she wondered what memory sparked such animosity in the Blade. Kearnen scoffed and stalked back to her corner, folding her arms indignantly.

The Margrave tilted his head gravely, ever calm through the outburst. “He comes to us from Revendreth,” he said softly. “They found him atoned for his tribulations and he chose to be placed within a new covenant. I feel that a patient hand will do well to help him find his place among our brothers, as it did you.” 

Draka crouched, bringing herself level with the being behind her master. He wasn’t more than a small, wiry shadow, a pair of glowing green eyes peering back at her. “This is the form he has chosen?” she asked. She didn’t fail to notice the growl that rumbled behind her.

“All the more reason to betray us when our backs are turned,” Kearnen spat. “Isn’t that right, Va-“

“That’s quite enough, Kearnen,” Akarak scolded, lifting a warning glance to the arachnid in the corner before turning back to his student. “I know not what he endured in that realm, but he has indicated that he is more comfortable remaining in shadow,” Akarak explained, shifting his eyes back to the figure crouching behind him.

“ _I can speak for myself, you know_ ,” the little shadow retorted, his voice nothing more than a light whisper. 

“What is your name, little one?” Draka asked gently. She watched as his green eyes flicked about the room before landing on her.

“ _Don’t have a name_ ,” he said evenly.

“What do you remember?”

“ _Nothing._ ”

The answer was quick and sharp. Draka could feel the mistrust pouring from the little shadow in waves. Time. He needed time.

Luckily, they were in a place that had it in abundance.

@}—>—

“Well then, lads and _lady_ ,” Flynn drawled as he entered the captain’s cabin upon finishing the evening checks and ensuring his meager crew was at their posts. “The anchor’s dropped for the night and unless we have the misfortune to encounter a less than friendly crew in the middle of bloody nowhere, (which we _won’t_ , stop looking at me like that, Mathias, if you would please) I believe we’re good to enjoy our evening, hm?”

“Don’t say that,” Mathias winced, rubbing his forehead. Taelia gave a soft chuckle as she sat down next to the spymaster at the broad estate table in the cabin, a wine glass in one hand and Shaw’s coin purse in the other.

“Paranoid,” Flynn tutted, rifling through a drawer in the sideboard curio. 

“Jaina and Arthas aren’t joining us?” Taelia asked as she divvied coins into piles on the table between herself and Shaw, the spymaster shuffling a deck of cards. 

“Eh, they turned in early, since Arthas is taking the next watch with Swailes,” Flynn replied, pausing in his search for a moment as Anduin joined them with a book tucked under his arm. “Mind grabbing the door, lad?”

“How was dish duty?” Taelia mused, catching the cards Mathias deftly dealt to her. “Did Carlotta give you a hard time?”

“ _Always_ ,” Anduin groused, dropping unceremoniously into a chair across from her, opening the book to the marked page. He gave a nod in thanks as Flynn handed him a glass of blood red Darkshire Apothica, before returning to the drawer. “You’d think I was under _her_ employ and not the other way around,” he grumbled into his glass, flicking a page as he took a sip.

“You and that bloody book,” Taelia smirked fondly, arranging her cards in order. She flicked a glance at the spymaster and reached her hand out to push his hand closer to his chest, earning a glare. “Lefty, love. Chose the wrong seat, you did.”

“Then stop trying to look, Lass,” he muttered as he flicked the cards around deftly in his hand. “I thought you’d already read _Sovereigns_?” he asked, putting his cards face down and spreading the stock pile into a neat line in front of them.

“I finished the series quite some time ago,” Anduin admitted. “It’s been a while since I started, however. I thought I’d do a reread.”

Mathias hummed, throwing a coin to match Taelia’s between them. “Seems I’ve proven your personal bodyguard wrong,” he muttered absently as Flynn joined them, seating himself at the head of the table next to his mate, setting out a tray of various packets and taking a drink of whiskey before setting to work measuring herbs out onto the tray.

“Valeera?” asked the young king quizzically. 

“She made it sound like you’d outgrown them when I handed her the last two,” Shaw confessed softly. Taelia swapped out one of his discards, nudging him gently to indicate his turn.

“ _You_ bought them for me,” Anduin said, dumbfounded. It wasn't a question.

Mathias flicked his eyebrows in response, pulling a card from the stockpile. “Surely you noticed I own a set, myself,” he muttered as he scanned his cards for one to throw away. “Or perhaps that wasn’t you in my flat thumbing through _Melody_ last week.”

“Nah, couldn’t have been us,” Taelia snorted. 

“Mathias bought me a book once,” Flynn cut in as he pulled a few thin squares of paper from a nearby envelope and arranged them next to the herbs. 

“Fairwind, don’t you dare,” Mathias warned with a narrow glance.

“Wot?” the captain squawked as he pulled a pinch from the green pile and rubbed it between his fingers over one of the squares. “Technically, you _did_ buy me that first edition of _Proper Harbingers_ and it looks quite lovely alongside my Steamy Romance series on our bedroom bookshelf, thank-you-very-much.”

“Fuck off!” Taelia exclaimed. “How the hell did you manage to get your hands on a first edition?”

“I happen to know a book dealer,” Mathias replied with a dismissive wave of his cards, earning another shove of his hand against his chest. “Flynn, I implore you to end this conversation, now.”

“Am I not allowed to mention the _other_ book you bought me?” Flynn teased with a crooked grin. He pinched from the brown pile and spread the long leaf across the paper over the herbs, rolling the spliff deftly between his thumbs. He licked the seam and pressed the paper together. “You got matches in your kit?”

“Of course I do,” the spymaster inclined his head towards his bag sat next to their bed, “and no, you’re not.”

Taelia’s eyes grew wide as she finally realized what the dear captain had been up to the past several minutes. “Flynn Fairwind, tell me that’s _not_ Anchorweed on that tray.”

“Come off it, Tae,” Flynn groused as he settled back into his seat, striking a match against the bootheel resting against his knee. “I’ve cut it with Cellar Reserve. Besides, I’m not on watch tonight and I figure I’ve got a good, what, ten bells before I’m back on deck.” The captain lit the spliff with a few puffs, shaking the match out. He took a strong pull, exhaling a plume of smoke above their heads. “Now, about that other book,” he grinned slyly.

“Just... stop talking,” Mathias pleaded in exasperation.

“Dread pirate’s arsehole, mate.” The captain leaned back, bouncing his boots onto the table and resting his hands behind his head with a smirk.

“You know what,” Shaw growled, “give me that.” His hand shot out, plucking the spliff from his lover’s lips and settling it between his own as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He took a pull and exhaled through his nose before he went back to skimming over his hand of cards.

The room stilled, the only sound coming from the creak in the wood as the ship gently rocked against the water of the sea and Flynn's chair slamming back into place.

“Did that just happen?” Taelia asked, staring at the spymaster with her mouth open. She flicked her glance between Flynn’s utterly appalled expression and the astonishment written on Anduin’s face.

“I...I didn’t know you smoked, Shaw,” stammered the young king, blinking several times.

Mathias shot him a pointed look. “I could fill several novels with what you don’t know about me, lad.” He turned his attention to the captain, rolling his eyes. “You can just roll yourself another one, you know,” he chided, taking another drag from the spliff. “Your turn, Lass.”

Taelia shook her head and pulled a card from the stock pile, revealing a king. She swiped the coin pile and put the king in its place. “I still can’t believe you brought Anchorweed, Flynn. I thought you stopped smoking that shit.”

“Oh aye,” he nodded as he worked on the square of paper between his fingers. “I did. I stopped smoking it by itself. I still cut it once in a while, if the fancy strikes.”

“How long?” she demanded with a tilt of her head.

Flynn blew out a breath thoughtfully. “Four years?” Flynn waved his hand back and forth as he settled the newly rolled spliff between his lips, reaching for another match. “The last time was the night that Cyrus pulled my dick out of you,” he added nonchalantly.

Taelia’s breath caught at Flynn’s words. He couldn’t have just said that. She shot her gaze back to Anduin, who was frozen with his wine glass just at his lips.

“You _lied_ to me?” he asked softly, setting the glass down. She could tell he was trying not to break it in his hand.

“Anduin, I can explain-”

“Save it,” he snarled, slamming his book shut against the table and storming out of the cabin, slamming the door in his wake.

Taelia rounded on the captain, fixing him with a dangerous glare. “Thanks, Flynn,” she spat, throwing down her cards and chasing the young king out of the room.

“Hey, what’d I do?” he called after her. He turned to his mate. “What’d I say?”

“I don’t think she’s told him about _that_ , yet,” Mathias replied carefully, putting his spliff out against the corner of the tray and folding his arms. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Flynn breathed. He placed the unlit spliff on the table next to his whiskey glass and blew out of the cabin, calling the girl’s name as he disappeared up the stairs.

Mathias sat alone in the cabin, taking a deep breath. “Idiots,” he muttered to no one in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the brief hiatus. I finished out the prequels and honestly I hadn't a solid plan for returning to the main storyline (mainly just a handful of scenes with no plot). THEN, Shadowlands hit, and I started getting ideas (and _thinking_ ). I have a whiteboard full of scribbles now for this piece and the next. 
> 
> I'll be going out of state for three weeks come mid-December, so I hope I'll be able to continue without much issue.
> 
> Comments, are as always, welcomed and appreciated and they steal spliffs from Flynn.


	2. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The second star to the right  
>  Shines with a light that’s rare  
> And if it’s Neverland you need  
> It’s light will lead you there_

“Again,” Draka growled.

They had spent countless attempts at sparring. Training dummies, traps, obstacles. From the moment the little shadow had chosen his blades, a pair of light swords, she had worked him. She didn’t fail to notice how he had shied away from the table of daggers, as if they would burn him to touch.

He dropped into stealth. She tracked his movement by ear around her, anticipating the first strike. She spun, catching his offhand sword with her own thick shiv. She countered his next attack from his main hand, throwing the little shadow off-balance. He kicked up, knocking her chin, but she regained her footing easily. She sidestepped once more, their blades clanging against each other in the dance. 

He was well-trained, she had to admit, moving like a breeze around her effortlessly. As he ducked and slid around her, she put herself in his line for strike once more, but he hesitated, just as he had done some thirty times before that. She shoved him back and took point again with a sigh.

“I’ve given you ample opportunity again and again to go for the throat, little one,” she said in exasperation. “Each time, you pull back.” The little shadow turned his head and let out a raspy, indignant grunt.

“Because you’re going about it all wrong, sir.”

Draka turned to find Kearnen, in her human form, leaning against the wall of the training chamber, arms folded and her head tilted. The Blade kicked off the wall and approached.

“If I may?” she offered, holding out her hand. Draka slumped her shoulders and conceded, handing over the blades.

The Baroness watched as Kearnen bounced the daggers in her hands, testing their weight and efficiency before stepping before the little shadow. She flipped the blades in her grip and smirked.

The shadow snarled, throwing himself at the Aranakk, attempting to slash his swords at her. Draka watched curiously as she shielded each advance backhandedly with the blades. Kearnen never dropped into a fighting stance, merely deflected as if she were bored, like she knew every step he was going to take.

“Give me a fucking _challenge_ ,” the shadow spat in his wispy voice, stepping back to pause the fight, making a motion like he was swiping at a mouth Draka couldn’t see. His eyes blazed their cool green in frustration.

“So it’s a challenge you want, is it?” Kearnen mused. “Have at it, then, little lost shadow,” she instigated with a sly smile upon her lips and a tilt of her head, “if you dare.”

Draka kept a keen eye on them as the pair collided, the Blade now putting her all into it. It was a sight to truly behold. As Kearnen evaded and parried, the Baroness found that the little shadow’s movements began to match. 

They moved as one, dancing around each other beautifully and meticulously. She had no doubt that the Blade was a talented rogue, both in hand to hand combat as well as sniping. But something about the way the little shadow dodged as many advances as she did, Draka began to wonder if their teacher had been one in the same.

Kearnen didn’t pull any punches, didn’t give him an out, kept up with defensive as well as aggressive attacks when his guard slipped. It was breathtaking to watch.

Draka leaned against the wall, folding her arms as the sparring match continued in muted grunts and the ting of blades against each other. Finally, the Blade sidestepped in the wrong direction, deliberately the orc noted, and the little shadow was able to knock her on her back. He quickly jumped on top of her, bringing his swords in range of her chest, stopping himself.

“ _There_ he is,” Kearnen purred with a quirked eyebrow. “Good job, little shadow. He’d be proud.” 

The shadow’s eyes widened and he scrambled off her, allowing the Blade to recover. The Blade brushed her trousers and picked up the Baroness’ daggers. She flicked a glance over her shoulder to find the shadow crouched away from her, his back turned and his head bowed. With a sigh and a smirk, Kearnen stalked back to where Draka had been watching, flipping the blades around to hold the hilts to her.

“If you train him to go for the throat, he’ll choke every time,” she explained as the orc took the daggers from the disguised arachnid. 

The Baroness narrowed her eyes. “Why is that?” she asked curiously.

“It’s how he died,” Kearnen replied simply with a one armed shrug. Surprisingly, her words held no malice. “The Margrave wants us to do a recon in Ardenweald, by the way.”

“Ardenweald?” Draka furrowed her brow, flicking a glance at the shadow, who had turned his attention to a training dummy. 

“They’ve requested Eyes in the southwest peninsula, sir. Seems like there’s been an insurgence of Drust activity that’s been raised as a cause of concern.”

The orc nodded. “Would do him good to get out of the necropolis,” she muttered. “We’ll meet you outside the Heartwood Grove, Kearnen.”

The Blade gave a slight bow. “And sir?” Draka raised an eyebrow as the Aranakk flicked a glance past her. “His name is Ed,” Kearnen said softly as she slipped into her arachnid form and turned to the door.

@}—>—

“Anduin, please open the door,” Taelia pleaded against the deep oak separating her from the cabin she shared with the young king. She heard the familiar bootfall creep behind her, only chancing a quick glance to find Flynn hovering, his brow furrowed in guilt.

“Tae, I am _really_ sorry,” he soothed. “I didn’t know.” 

She shot him a sharp glare and knocked on the door again. “I know where Mathias keeps his kit, Anduin. I could just pick the lock.” Taelia heard the bolt of the door give, allowing her to slip inside, securing the lock back into place behind her. She leaned against the deep oak, folding her arms loosely across her chest. 

Anduin stood gripping the back of the small desk chair near their unmade bed, his head bowed. She could feel the wave of anger, and something _else_ , something he was trying to keep contained, threatening beneath the surface as the young king’s breath came quickly as he seethed.

“You told me there was nothing between you and the captain,” he said evenly. 

“There’s not, I swear,” she replied quickly. “If it hasn’t completely escaped your notice, Flynn’s pretty arse over bloody tit for your spymaster.”

“Then why did he say that the two of you had _fucked_?”

The word came out of his mouth like a slap to her face. “Because we did,” she answered without regret. She kicked off the door and took a few tentative steps closer, tilting her head to try and catch his gaze. 

“ _Why_ did you lie to me, Taelia?” he asked again, sliding a scathing glance to her. 

Taelia scrunched her nose in indignation. “Because what kind of conversation is that to have with a bloke you met for the first time that, by the way, is actually your childhood crush in disguise, and I may have been interested in. That’s a _great_ ice-breaker, Anduin. ‘Hey, by the way, here’s the story of my first sexual experience’. I’m sure there’s many more awkward stories I could have told you.”

“There’s been ample opportunity—“

“I was sixteen!” she exclaimed. “I was randy and coming up and the boys at the Academy didn’t show any interest. In fact, they practically ran from me. Flynn was _there_. I was eager and he was available and willing. Are you really going to hold it over my head that I lost my maidenhead to a kind pirate with eight years on me who _happens_ to suck as much cock as he chases skirt?”

“ _Former pirate!_ ” came a muffled cry from the other side of the door.

“Not helping!” Taelia growled over her shoulder. “Go away!”

She turned back to the young king with a huff and folded her arms. His ears had flushed red and his face had softened, just a bit. 

“It was four years ago, Anduin. It never went past a few times, and it never meant anything more than the friendship he and I have now. And now _you’re_ here with me, and I told you not even a fortnight back that I couldn’t do that to either of you. Or Mathias, for that matter.”

Anduin swallowed hard and inhaled a deep sigh before conceding a nod. The cadet took another step, reaching out to cup his cheek.

“Right then, your turn.”

His eyes snapped to hers in confusion. “My turn?”

“Oh, aye,” she replied, her eyebrows raised, letting her hand fall down to take one of his. “You get to tell me about yours, while we’re on the subject.”

“I… I don’t…” he stammered.

“Come on, Anduin. I’m not so naive as to think I was your first time,” she said pointedly.

“You are,” he said cautiously. “You’re the first girl I’ve been with.”

Taelia tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, sensing his attempt at deflection. “That’s not what I asked,” she countered skeptically. 

Anduin averted his eyes to the desk. “Wrathion,” he confessed. “I was fifteen.”

Taelia’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide in shock. “Well, that’s one way to lose a pissing contest,” she muttered. She heard a muffled curse from the other side of the door again and furrowed her brow. “What part of ‘ _go away_ ’ did you not get, Flynn?!” she once again called over her shoulder before turning back to the young king. 

“Sorry, I just thought you’d…” Anduin trailed.

“I’d what? Judge you because it was a bloke?” she asked incredulously. “Have you _met_ my best friend, Flynn Fairwind?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I suppose that’s fair,” he replied.

“First of all, I’m not in the least worried about it, because you seem to run the pennants _just fine_ with me. Second, I’m impressed that you bedded a fucking _dragon_. I mean, how the fuck do I compete with that?” she added teasingly. 

“You’re not a self-absorbed bastard with a list of hidden agendas?”

“There is that,” she snorted, giving his hand a little squeeze. “We good, love?”

The young king bit his bottom lip before inhaling sharply. “Actually, there’s something I think I should tell you.”

~*~*~

Flynn hadn’t meant to stand outside their door eavesdropping as long as he had. Not really. He cared for the girl, and he had come to care for the young king as well. He had just wanted to make sure they were on brighter terms before returning to Mathias. 

They had grown a little quiet so he pressed his ear against the wood, trying to hear better. Just to make sure they hadn’t actually killed each other.

He _really_ hadn’t meant to hear Anduin’s next confession.

After a brief scuffle, Taelia blew out of the cabin like wild cannon fire, making her way up to the main deck. The door closed softly behind her.

“ _Shit_ ,” he breathed, before setting off towards the Lord Admiral’s suite.

~*~*~

Mathias had remained in the cabin, lost in thought. At some point, the unlit spliff that Flynn had abandoned on the tray had made its way between his fingers where it was twisted and twirled. Memories of a lost age, young and carefree, flashes of rooftops and a red bandana had wriggled into his idle thoughts. 

“That’s taken care of then,” Flynn announced wearily as he joined him, closing the door softly behind him and crossing back to his seat. He toed off his boots and tossed them towards the bed. “Nailor’s taking the watch for Arthas, although now I owe an extra shift for the both of us tomorrow.”

“Hm?” Mathias lifted his gaze to the captain and quirked an eyebrow. “Why’s Arthas not on shift tonight?”

Flynn sucked in a sharp breath. “Anduin told Taelia about Bolvar,” he replied gravely.

“Fuck.”

“Took off like a shot out of their cabin and up the crow’s nest, right quick, she did.”

“That’s... _not_ good.”

“She’ll come around, just needs some time.” The captain reached up and stroked the patch of hair on his chin, his eyes falling on the spliff in Shaw’s hand. “You gonna tell me what _that_ was about?”

“What _what_ was about?” the spymaster asked, attempting poorly at divergence, placing the spliff back on the tray.

Flynn ran his tongue along an incisor and let out a soft mirthless chuckle. “I seem to recall you dragging my sorry arse all over Light’s Green Azeroth over the course of several weeks, and there was many a night we’d sit by a cozy hearth or a campfire where I’d smoke a spliff and _never_ would you accept the offer to partake with me.”

“That was different,” Mathias countered. “I was on-duty.”

“Oh don’t give me that, mate,” the pirate chided gently. “You’re on-duty even when you _think_ you’re off-duty.” He scooted his chair closer, placing his hands on Shaw’s knees and giving a gentle squeeze. “Look, we’ve been together how many months, now?”

“A fair few,” Mathias admitted.

“Aye, and how long have I been badgering you?”

Shaw rolled his eyes, trying to keep the fond grin off his lips. “Longer than I’d like to admit.”

Flynn nodded, biting his lower lip. “So, what was it _tonight_ that made you do that?” he asked, inclining his head quickly to the spliff on the table. “Push a few buttons like I would do any other night and you plucked that spliff right from my mouth like you’d done it a hundred times before. Like you completely forgot yourself for a moment.”

The spymaster grew quiet, placing his hands over Flynn’s, running them up and resting them around the Kul Tiran’s wrists. “I didn’t forget myself,” he said thoughtfully. “It was like I had _found_ something again.”

A pregnant pause passed between them. Fairwind sighed. “This have something to do with that bloke you refuse to talk about? Edwin?”

Mathias lifted his head sharply, his mouth setting into a firm line. He refused to answer.

“Thought that may be it,” Flynn conceded. “I’m not asking you to tell me that whole story tonight, but I think I’ve more than proven how much of a patient man I can be.” He rubbed Shaw’s thighs, not shaking his lover’s hands from their grip. “As much as I’d like to think I know you, I can admit I’ve only scratched the surface. It’s like you told Anduin; there’s several novels worth that I don’t know, amirite?

“Look, I can’t take him away from you, and _more_ than that, I don’t want to.” The captain gently spread his lover’s legs as he slipped off the chair to his knees so he could settle between them, looking up at the redhead sincerely. “I have a feeling whatever you two had shaped a lot of the mate I chose, and I’d like very much to get to know both of you. When you’re ready, mind.” The crooked grin appeared across the pirate’s lips. “You trust me, yeah?”

Mathias took a shaking breath and nodded. “I trust you,” he said quietly. Flynn’s grin grew broader as he reached up, using the spymaster’s thighs as leverage to kiss the older man, feather soft and full of promise. 

“Good.” The pirate reached over and grabbed the spliff and the matches. “What say you and I smoke this spliff so that I can get to work licking every single freckle on that lily-white skin of yours, mate?”

Shaw laughed, a low rumble in his chest. “You’re insatiable, Fairwind.” 

“Yep. Healthy, burgeoning libido, me.” He went in for another kiss, Mathias smiled into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a completely different turn from what I had originally mapped out for it, but I'm stupid happy with how it turned out. Will most likely be around Monday or Tuesday before the next update, since I'll be working.
> 
> There is a BIG chunk of this chapter that has been planned since Chapter 3 from Demon's Run. Yep, that chapter. Blame Flynn. I do.
> 
> Also, I promise this is the very very very last time I mention that time that Flynn and Taelia got it on. XD
> 
> Comments are welcomed and appreciated and they love Mathias SO. MUCH.


	3. Rooftops and Sunsets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Twinkle, twinkle, little star  
>  So we’ll know where you are  
> Gleaming in the skies above  
> Lead me to the land I dream of_

The journey through the slipstream into Maldraxxus was always a jarring experience. The little shadow had clung to Draka’s back as they rode the etherworm back to the musty hillside covered in fungus and blight. There was very little weight to him to throw her balance off, feeling ever so much the shadow of the form he had chosen.

They touched down a league off from the necropolis. It would be a bit of a walk, but one she felt necessary. Part of his training. Once he could be loosed to his own missions, he’d have to be able to walk the journeys in solitude. It made for a better spy in their House.

The recon mission had gone smoothly, Draka slipping in and out of the Drust camp easily. It was as the night-fae had feared: Drust were in an upheaval as the drought had left them unfettered. They had carried copies of their findings to a group of high ranking fae, knowing that they would be denied audience with the Winter Queen. Draka was relieved that they had heeded her warnings and her efforts may not be entirely in vain.

She glanced over her shoulder to her little shadow, creeping along a pace behind. There seemed to be a newfound melancholy in his frame as he moved, dragging his feet. She stopped and glanced down at him as he crouched next to her.

“What troubles you, little one?” She asked.

“ _Nothing, Baroness_ ,” he replied in his wispy voice with a shake of his head. She noted how he stared straight ahead, refusing to look up at her.

“Come now,” she chided. She had seen the way he took to climbing the trees and ran along the limbs ahead of them as they travelled through Ardenweald. In the time that she had been training the little shadow, he never seemed so at home. She regarded him patiently. “What do you remember?” she asked, just as she had asked countless times before.

“ _Nothing_ ,” came the same answer, this time with more bite.

“No, I don’t believe that anymore,” she said softly with a curious raise of her eyebrows. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, little one. I still keep some of my memories. Like an offering to my old ancestors. It keeps us balanced in this life.”

He didn’t respond, just watched unseeing across the vast wasteland before them. She sighed and took a few steps forward, sure that he was going to be stubborn as always.

“ _I remember stars._ ” 

Draka halted, turning to him with a curious tilt of her head. He didn’t bring his glowing green eyes to her.

“ _Rooftops. Alabaster stone._ ” His eyes softened. “ _Crimson sunsets_ ,” he said sadly. He paused and narrowed his eyes sharply. She could almost make out a frustrated furrow in his brow. “ _There’s no fucking stars here_ ,” he grumbled.

The orc smirked warmly. “No, there is not. No snow either.” She watched him lift his gaze finally to her. “We’re nearly there. Best not to keep the Margrave waiting,” she said, motioning her head in the direction of the necropolis.

@}—>—

Mathias stepped out onto the main deck, a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. As the winds turned brisk, a sign that Northrend wasn’t too far off on the horizon, he had foregone his linen tunic for a woolen jumper, soft and warm. He took a healthy swig of the thick, acrid brew from the cup in his left, his eyes landing on the shirtless back of his lover. A snort escaped him with a shake of his head.

Leave it to Flynn to sport a sheen of sweat across his bronzed skin in the northern chillwinds.

The spymaster watched the captain help his crew secure the rigging with a practiced hand, his eyes falling on the two small stars adorning his right shoulder. _Second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning. Quickest route home_ , he had explained one night while Mathias was navigating a map around the scattered traces of ink bloomed across his skin with a velvet touch. He took another drink from his cup, forgetting if the warmth in his cheeks was from the coffee alone.

“Appreciating the view, mate?” Flynn smirked as he caught Mathias in his eye line, throwing his boar’s tail off his shoulder. The captain patted Siward on the back, leaving the ropes to saunter over, plucking the mug from Shaw’s right hand and nuzzling his temple. The older man wrinkled his nose.

“You smell,” he muttered with a playful smirk around the rim of his own cup.

“And you _like_ it,” purred the pirate as he drank a hearty gulp. “S’all manly and whatnot.”

Mathias rolled his eyes with a grin before lifting his gaze up the crow’s nest, the smile fading from his lips. “She still up there?”

The captain followed his eyeline up the mainmast. “Aye. Probably muttering to herself, I suspect.” He let out a sigh with a shake of his head, taking another swig of his coffee, placing the mug on the floorboards, secured in a corner by a small section of rail. “Leave her be. She’ll come down when she runs out of steam. Or when she gets hungry.” He patted his lover’s shoulder gently. “I’m betting on the latter.”

Mathias hummed, finally bringing his gaze down thoughtfully. “I should try and get a few hours work in. You know where to find me.” Flynn nodded and set back to helping his crew as Shaw ducked back into their cabin. 

Several bells passed and by the time Carlotta rang for dinner. Siward and Nailor were posted on deck, keeping the carrack steady. Taelia had yet to come down from the roost. 

Mathias sat at the edge of the table, so as not to bump elbows as he ate, only glancing up when Anduin entered the mess, a faint melancholy still haloing him. The young king took a plate laden with roasted meat and potatoes and sat on the end away from Shaw as the others filled in around them, Arthas plopping down between them and digging into his own dinner.

“Making _fantastic_ time, gents,” Flynn crowed as he ducked into the mess. “ _And_ ladies,” he amended, bending to plant a playful kiss on the cheeks of both Jaina and Carlotta in his exuberance. Mathias rolled his eyes with a smirk and a shake of his head, taking a bite of potato. The captain accepted a plate and took a seat on the bench next to the Lord Admiral. “If I’m not mistaken, we should pull into port at Valgarde by mid-morning.”

“If winds be fair,” Jaina quipped softly with a warm smile. 

“Oh, they always are when I’m aboard, love.” Fairwind waggled his eyebrows conspiratorially at the mage as he popped a small chunk of meat into his mouth. His gaze flicked to Anduin for the briefest of moments before sliding his eyes back to Mathias. “You taking watch tonight, mate, or shall I?”

“I have some last minute paperwork to finish,” the spymaster nodded. “You go on ahead.” Mathias paused, glancing up to find Taelia lingering in the doorway. 

Shaw watched as she took in the table. Carlotta approached her, wrapping a comforting arm around her to try and entice her into taking a plate, all the while chiding that she’d not seen her for meals all day. Her eyes fell on Arthas, sat between himself and Anduin and she quickly shook the cook’s arm off and turned back out of the room.

Flynn started to rise but Mathias stopped him with a gentle hand. “I’ll go,” he muttered softly, rising and following her out of the room, patting the captain's shoulder as he passed..

Anduin watched gravely before turning his attention back to his plate.

“What’s wrong with Taelia?” Jaina asked in confusion, flicking her glance between her companions. Flynn shook his head in response.

Anduin bit his lip. “I told her about Bolvar last night,” he confessed quietly, looking up to find his aunt wide eyed. She looked to Arthas and let out a sigh.

“I’m proud of you,” she said, reaching out to give Anduin’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

He slipped his hand from hers quickly and rose to hand his plate back to Carlotta for dish duty. “Then why do I still feel shitty about it?” he grumbled as he left the mess for his cabin.

@}—>—

Mathias slipped into the captain’s quarter silently, closing the door behind him and leaving it unlocked. He scanned the room, listening more than looking. He heard a soft hiccup and glanced down next to the bed to find Taelia curled with her arms wrapped around her knees.

“Figured I’d find you here,” he said soothingly, crouching down next to her, trying to ignore the squeal in his shin.

“Yeah?” she replied sharply, swiping at a tear on her cheek. “How’s that?”

“Can’t crawl back up the nest if Nailor’s up there, can you?”

There was a pause between them as he reached out and placed a gentle hand on her knee. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said softly, tilting his head just to try and catch her gaze. “I know it’s a lot.”

“I’m not upset at Anduin,” she said quickly. 

“I know you’re not.” Mathias left the reason for her ire lingering between them. He blew out a breath and raised back up, his knees protesting in the stretch. “Come on, up you get,” he said with his hand out to her. The girl scrunched her brow as she looked up at him. “Repaying that kindness,” he added.

Tentatively, she took his hand and rose, crawling into the bed he shared with Flynn. He blew out the few candles dimly lighting the room, and followed her. Echoes of the night she stayed up with him while Flynn was on a contract run filled the spaces between. And when he tried to place his hand on her shoulder, just as she had done for him, she turned and buried her face in his chest and sobbed. Mathias rested his hand on the top of her head and quieted her with murmurs of “Sh, Lass.”

When Flynn tiptoed into the cabin, toeing off his boots at the door, he found the two people he cared for more than anything else on Azeroth curled around each other fast asleep. He laid a feather-soft hand on Mathias’ shoulder, giving it an nigh imperceptible nudge.

The spymaster’s eyes opened slowly with a yawn, glancing up to find his lover hovering over them. “Time is it?” His voice low and thick with sleep.

“Half past the third bell,” Flynn whispered. “Lift up a bit. I’ll take her to her quarter.”

Mathias roused to sit, scrubbing a hand down his face and stretching until he felt a few of his joints loosen and _pop_. Once the captain had scooped the girl into his arms, he laid back down, scooting over to the inside of the bed, his back to the door. It was mere moments later that he felt the dip of weight behind him, a faintly decorated arm snaking across him and pulling him close. He traced the shape of an Admiralty anchor hugging the curves of the pirate’s hand across his wrist up the meat of thumb.

“I want to talk… about Edwin,” he admitted softly. “But not tonight.”

He felt warm, chapped lips brush against the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

“When?” came the whispered response behind him.

“Once we make port and have a little time.” 

“Of course.” The captain pulled him closer, tangling a leg between the spy’s. “When you’re ready, mate.”

Mathias felt the tension in his limbs melt away as he drifted back to a dreamless slumber within his lover's arms.

@}—>—

“You snuck off to Ardenweald, again.” 

The little shadow crept up to Draka’s side as she swiftly saddled her darkhound. It was never the quite the same as fitting and saddling her old frostwolf, Ice, but the beasts native to Maldraxxus were swift, carrying her across long distances in mere moments and never seemed to take issue to any weight put upon them. She glanced down, finding the little shadow looking up at her sheepishly.

“ _Can’t help it, Baroness_ ,” he admitted quietly. “ _Something about that place… it calls to me._ ”

“This is where you belong, little one,” she chided gently. The baroness sighed. “I didn’t think this place would suit me either. However, with time, it feels… right.” She gestured for him to climb onto the hound. “I know that you’ll come to see that as well.”

“ _Have we a missive?_ ” The little shadow tilted his head curiously. It was not a term she was all that familiar with, but she recognized his meaning straightaway. She took note of his diversion. Draka mounted the hound in front of him, gathering the reins. 

“We are to bring a message to Margrave Krexus.”

“ _The House of the Chosen?_ ”

“Very good, little one.” She dug into the side of the brute with the heel of her boot, just as she would if she were riding Ice. She idly wondered for a tiny moment what happened to her old companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry that it's taken me longer than it usually does to post a chapter. Ran into a bit of writer's block, and I've decided to rearrange some pieces before I get into the projected next longfic. It turns out that a few stories need to be written first and foremost, so those smaller stories will ultimately come first.
> 
> Comments as always are welcomed and loved and comfort Taelia in the crow's nest.


	4. Never Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And when our journey is through  
>  Each time we say good night  
> We’ll thank the little star that shines  
> The second from the right_

The crisp air of the midnight realm enveloped him as he skittered across tree branches and thick vines. He had missed freedom. Missed running along rooftops lining smooth stones constructed by his father’s hand or his own. Missed the warm winds siphoning from the Steppes to whip through his hair and across his sunburnt face. Missed climbing the buttresses of the cathedral at dusk, peals of laughter in a light baritone chasing his heels. Missed the blanket of stars against an indigo sky high above him and stolen nights in a tangle of arms and legs, two lovers wound together as one in secret.

There was something about Ardenweald he couldn’t get enough of. _Neverland_ , Kearnen had called it. Never to be theirs. Never within reach. This was the realm of the fae, the wilds. Of nature and dreams, but also of mischief, and beauty, and independence. 

His mouth watered just to have a taste of it. 

A flash of gold caught his eye and he halted, dropping out of the tree on a sure foot. He looked about, ever alert to ensure his presence was unnoticed as he crept up to the portal spread along the curve of the trunk of a great tree, glowing in a pulse of washing colors. Ice blue to gold to violet to red, threaded by tendrils of thick black smoke. He reached out curiously, finding his hand slipping past the tree bark, warm and enticing. Whispers beckoned him closer, to pass the veil, until one voice in particular startled him.

_Is that any way for you to address your Superior?_

He drew back his hand as if burned. The taunting, bitter voice cut through visions of his time tortured in Revendreth. A voice that haunted him well into his death, beyond his memories of life. It was the single trait that she kept when she joined the legions of venthyr and rising into power among the Court of Harvesters.

Wrath. The Stonewright. The fitting irony didn’t escape him. And she would never forget.

He shook the thought and stared at the portal. He should leave, go back to the Baroness. He knew he didn’t belong, would never belong. _Never_. He took another step backwards, ready to turn away when another voice enveloped him.

_Your life, first and foremost, is at the mercy and service to the Crown of Stormwind._

Salvation. Atonement. Love. _Him._

A breath of melodic baritone in his memory that kept him fighting. The only thing in the whole of creation that ever meant _anything_ to him. The one thing he always took for granted and that regret was what bore him audience with the Accuser, granting him a second judgement. Wanting to hear more, have it draw him in like flies to honey, he threw himself at the portal, falling through like a whisper and plunging into darkness. 

His eyes were sharper than when he was alive. He made out the oil-slicked leaves of the trees, dressing the branches above and below in a wash of iridescent sheen. He climbed the nearest tree, a comfort, and crept along towards a faint glow of gold in the distance, the whispers cradling him as he followed closer to an unknown destination.

_Why are you here, Ed?_

_I came to liberate you, of course._

_Did you not hear what I said less than two minutes ago?_

_Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, Mattie. Just let me show you this one thing. Come on, we don’t have all day._

His nostrils filled with a rotted stench, sickly sweet and nauseating, growing stronger as he came upon a clearing below him. A dark cave-like entrance came into his vision as the whispers bounced around him. He took a high perch, watching as the golden light wandered just out of his peripheral, scanning the dark like a beacon. The sound of a cracked stick and dry leaves underfoot stole his attention however, causing him to recoil.

He watched as a perfect imposter of his stolen youth clambered out of the cave, standing aside to let another figure pass him into the center of the glen, hair red as fire and skin like moonlight splattered with freckles.

“ _Mathias?”_ he gasped to himself.

This wasn’t the boy whose face he had committed to memory, who haunted his dreams with easy smiles only for him. Silver had begun to bloom the hair just at his temples and a groomed moustache crowned his upper lip. Moreover, he noted the creases of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and the worry lines that had spread across his cheeks to the set of his mouth. He was still tall and lean, perhaps a bit more muscle over the years, but his posture was alarmingly rigid, pulled by a weight of ingrained discipline and duty. Wound tight and cracking across the edges with a heartbreaking torment.

What had happened to that beautiful man he had adored so long ago? 

He watched as they exchanged words, his doppelgänger taunting the haunted vision of his lover. His eyes caught just over the redhead’s shoulder. A clear outline, a shimmer hovered near him, radiating heat like a campfire, flaring at points in the conversation.

“How long?” Mathias asked, his voice ashen with age. 

“I think you know the answer to that question, Mathias.” 

“Fifteen years.” 

His heart ripped. Fifteen years? It had been fifteen years since last they saw one another? Fifteen fucking years since he had pleaded for the man fighting to hold himself together before him to stay, just stay and light dammit why couldn’t it just be _enough_ to be _with_ him? To be important. 

To love him back.

“That’s right. Fifteen years. Do you remember sending someone else into the mines because you couldn’t bring yourself to kill me on your own.” 

“ _No_ ,” he whispered to himself. Mathias told him to run. He said he couldn’t stop the order. He _wouldn’t_ stop the order. But deep down, underneath everything, under his fucking _duty_ , underneath the filth and vitriol Pathonia fed him, Mathias _hadn’t_ been the one hovering over him as he bled out on the deck of the juggernaut, _hadn’t_ been the one who brought down the sword.

Mathias had been the one who _warned_ him.

“We can be together again.”

“Stop it,” Mathias warned.

“You want to be in the dark… with _me_.”

He felt himself growl at the amalgamation. 

“I’ve moved on, Edwin.” He snapped his eyes back at Mathias, the hovering halo starting to take shape behind him. He tilted his head and squinted, making out the man at his side. Long hair tied into a boar’s tail, bottlebrush moustache over a bit of rough stubble, broad shoulders and a few inches of height on the redhead. He was younger, possibly younger than Mathias was when he had seen him last.

“Really?” the doppelgänger drolled. “Say his name.”

He didn’t make out what the redhead had answered. His head was dropped down and his shoulders rose and fell in deep breaths.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” The imposter held a hand up to his ear, then flicked a glance directly at him. “The whole thing, nice and loud for the folks back in the free seats.” He felt a snarl rip the back of his throat.

“Flynn Fairwind.”

And that’s what made it real. That beautiful, devastating voice saying his new lover’s name in that instant ended _everything_. There was no more Mathias, no more running on rooftops with abandon, no more fishing in the canals, no more stolen nights warming each other’s beds. No more _them_. 

He’d moved on. Mathias had abandoned him.

“Do you know the consequence for lingering too long, pup?” 

He snapped his eyes back to the doppelgänger. It was staring at him, an acid grin spread venomously across its pallid face, black viscous sludge just starting to weep from its eyes. He felt the sharp sneer break across his face, but he turned away, breaking into a run across the dark tree line before leaping back through the portal.

@}—>—

As sure as stars do shine, they made port upon the tenth bell of the morning. They were received graciously by the Vice Admiral, who was more than ecstatic to be graced by the presence of the Pride of Kul Tiras. The party was granted rooms at the inn, save for Jaina and Anduin who were given accommodations in the newly built Keep, along with Arthas and Taelia respectively.

Mathias was loathe to admit that he was impressed by how the little foothold had grown. Last he had seen Valgarde, it was nothing more than, in his words, a dinky little tavern that served as a war room and a scattering of pup tents that barely covered a weary soldier looking for respite from the battlefield. Now, a fully installed keep settled against the cliff side surrounded by barracks and stables. A market with shops and stalls, smells of roasting meats wafting into the promenade, bustled with locals and travelers alike. The inn had gone through renovations and expansion, providing all the comforts craved by weary adventurers.

They stayed in Northrend for three weeks, using Valgarde as a makeshift home away from home while traveling through the lands of the northern continent. Once, while trekking across the Grizzly Hills, Flynn remarked that it felt like they were back on the inspection trip again, making Mathias smile. 

And true to his word, Mathias told Flynn about Edwin. The party was set to explore the mountains and valleys of the Storm Peaks, which gave them an excuse to stay behind, Shaw concerned about what the frigid cold would do to his split shin. 

The pair opted to spend those three days in the warmth of their suite, lazing in their bed or in front of the hearth. Time was spent alternating between eating meals delivered to their door, raw and open discussions of Mathias’ life before the captain had barged past all the meticulous walls the spymaster had constructed around himself, and lovemaking sessions that ranged from tender and comforting to fiery and passionate.

“I don’t get it, mate,” Flynn said as he rolled a thin slice of salted pork into a rosette before popping it into his mouth. 

They sat close before the hearth, clothed in nothing but a quilt draped across their laps. They had ordered a charcuterie board and a bottle of Doubledark —“this is _our_ drink,” Flynn had justified— from the barkeep, sharing the tidbits of preserved meats, wedges of figs and sliced smoky cheese along with thin crusts of freshly baked and buttered bread. 

“I really don’t,” Fairwind continued. “I mean, he sounds like he was an alright bloke, and talented from what you’re telling me. What the hell did he do to earn that kind of disapproval?”

“He _existed_ ,” Mathias grimaced as he took a sip of his whiskey before swiping a fig from the board. “She saw Ed as a distraction I didn’t need.”

“So, she didn’t approve of your choice of companion for no real reason?”

“Pathonia didn’t approve of me having a companion at all.”

Flynn scrunched up his nose and furrowed his brow. “Well, that’s quite the double standard now, innit?”

The spymaster regarded his lover curiously. “How so?”

“Not that you want to hear this mind, but if _you’re_ sitting here, she had to have gotten on with some bloke to pop out a sprog, who in turn had to have had relations along the line to have _you_ ,” the captain explained, in his uniquely logical way. “But,” he said pointedly, “sweet old Gran demanded _you_ to cut all ties.” He paused to take a bite of bread topped with a slice of cheese. “S’abit fucked, if you ask me.”

Mathias hummed thoughtfully. Flynn certainly made a valid point, a point that had never crossed his mind before. At least, not before that fateful time in Thros.

 _I promise I’ll have you back way before Pathonia comes back from Waltion’s. Shit, all this time and you_ still _don’t know about that._

“Mate?”

The spymaster startled. “Hm?”

Flynn chuckled, his eyes peering at him lazily and with affection. “I asked if you thought _I_ was a distraction.”

Mathias let out a light snort around a smirk. “Always.” He leaned to brush his nose against a thick shoulder lined in faded ink and perpetually holding onto sunlight. His teeth nipped lightly at golden flesh, earning a low rumble of laughter in return.

He lifted his eyes pensively, finding an acceptance that wrapped around his heart. How could this ridiculous creature full of energy and impatience be the absolute, most patient thing in his life. He need only ask for time and tolerance and Flynn would deliver it in spades. He inhaled a deep sigh, and turned to stare into the fire.

“The truth?” Mathias began softly. “If Pathonia, or even Varian, were alive? It wouldn’t be a question. I never would have looked twice in your direction. As it turns out, they’re not. And now I serve a more compassionate Crown. One that has allowed me to loosen the reins on those deeply rooted ideals of what my life should or shouldn’t be.”

“Anduin is a different King,” Flynn murmured.

The spymaster nodded. “Anduin is a different King,” he repeated as the captain nuzzled his temple, his lover's lips softly finding purchase against his jawline.

@}—>—

Morning broke across the cliff line, gentle sunlight spilling across the small harbor of Valgarde. Flynn and his crew were busy doing final checks to ready the _Whelp_ to weigh anchor and pull out of the slip for their journey back to Stormwind. Anduin and Taelia boarded the vessel as Jaina appeared from her cabin below deck.

“Oh good,” she breathed with a smile. “We were waiting on you two.” Jaina turned to the cadet, scrunching her nose sheepishly. “Taelia, Arthas requested to speak with you before we leave… if you’re up to it.”

The girl felt Anduin’s hand upon her shoulder as she pulled a sharp breath and clicked her jaw.

“It’s been three weeks, love,” the young king soothed. “I’m not saying you owe him anything, but would it hurt to find out what he has to say?”

Taelia glanced at him as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I hate it when you’re right, you know,” she muttered, handing him her pack.

Anduin smiled warmly. “I’ll go unpack.”

“Don’t get lost,” she teased softly as he pecked a chaste kiss to her cheek. He shouldered her sea-bag and stepped past her, heading towards their shared quarters.

Taelia let out a defeated sigh and rolled her eyes before taking the steps below deck. The door to Jaina and Arthas’ cabin stood ajar and she found the large former paladin unpacking his things. She lingered in the doorway, pulling her arms around herself, waiting to be noticed.

Arthas shifted his gaze to her. “Miss Taelia,” he greeted cautiously. “I’m glad you agreed to speak with me. Please come in.”

The girl only took a single step inside the cabin, calmly keeping an even face as she regarded him.

“Jaina explained how I’d drawn your ire. I’ve been trying to find a moment to speak with you… about Lord Fordragon.” The maw-walker turned and leaned against the estate desk by the cabin’s porthole window. A pregnant pause spanned the two of them as he averted his eyes with a furrow of his brow. “I don’t deserve your kindness, nor your forgiveness, for how the atrocities I committed as the Lich King affected you, your father... thousands of lives, actually. Apologizing is contrite and by no means makes anything right. I don’t deserve it from anyone, if I’m honest.” He took a deep breath, and looked up at her. There was a sadness in his eyes that she wouldn’t dare describe. “I can only hope that, with Jaina’s aid, I can try to atone for as much as I can with what little time I’ve been granted.”

Taelia bit the corner of her lip in thought, tearing her eyes away and looking about the room, anything so she didn’t have to look at the man who took her father from her. 

“I’m not a vengeful person,” she said, quiet and even, “never have been, really. I think… in time I could learn to forgive.” She flicked her glance back to him, hard and steely. “But don’t for a second think that I’ll ever forget,” she added, her voice low, dangerous.

The man nodded. “I can accept that,” he replied. “Thank you, Miss Taelia.”

She took a cleansing breath and ducked out of the cabin, crossing the hall to the room she shared with the young king. She scrubbed a hand down her face as she entered, closing the door behind her.

“So, how did it go?” Anduin asked as he placed a stack of shirts into a dresser drawer.

“Awkwardly,” she admitted with a roll of her eyes. She closed the gap between them and pushed her arms around his waist, pressing her forehead against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Give it the time you need, love,” he muttered against her hair. She felt him pull back, just a little, so he could look upon her face. “You don’t have to face any of this alone, you know that, right?”

“Never alone,” she replied wearily against him. “Not with the family we’ve chosen.” She averted her eyes sadly. “I just want to go home.”

“Ready to get rid of me so soon?” the young king teased with a playful smirk.

Taelia tried to return his grin. “Stormwind first. Then, _maybe_ Boralus.”

Anduin’s face lit into a broad smile as he leaned down and captured her lips, soft and tender. The bell chimed above deck and she pulled away with a deep breath, taking his hand and leading him to the main deck to watch as they pulled away from port to begin their journey home.

  
  


@}—>—

Kearnen was bored. In as much as she could be in her afterlife. 

She stood in the center of the capital, just off the Baroness’ shoulder, watching the bustle of the living champions gathering missions and mingling with covenant operatives. The drought had become a cause of concern even within the realms of Azeroth, and as such the warring factions had taken their asides and sent able bodies to assist. The Baron and Baroness had seen this as a respite, with the Houses of Maldraxxus holding together alliances by little more than a thread.

Her gaze fell upon a tall elven woman near the commissary. The leathers were as familiar to her as her own name, a spark of hope in the grave times they had ahead. Swiftly, she dropped into her human form and placed her hand on Draka’s shoulder, gesturing that she was stepping away for the briefest of moments.

Kearnen approached the kal’dorei, noting she wasn’t necessarily like most operatives she had worked shoulder to shoulder with in times past. She sported black vining tattoos down the exposed skin of her arms under the uniform and two small horns sprouted upon her head. A blue-grey strip of linen, matching the uniform, blindfolded her eyes to contain the burning fel energy sweeping from her eyes.

Had they started to recruit Illidari?

“Beg pardon,” she broached, the demon hunter glancing at her curiously with the raise of a single eyebrow. “ _Sleep with one eye open_.”

The demon hunter turned to her fully, crossing her arms. “ _Look to the shadows,_ she replied cautiously.

Kearnen’s face broke into a hopeful smile, her glowing green eyes shining bright. “SI:7 stands?” The elf nodded. “Then my message got through,” she muttered absently. “The Uncrowned were alerted in time.”

“You were an agent of the Crown.”

“For close to twenty years, until the Legion…” she trailed sadly, her eyes snapping up again. “Tell me, what of Shaw?”

“The Spymaster? He’s well. On leave, last I checked in.”

The Blade let out an incredulous laugh. “ _Shaw_. On _leave_.” She stifled the urge to ask if the kal’dorei was pulling her leg. Something told her that the elf wasn’t the joking type. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man take a day off in all the time I’d worked for him. Not even when his grandmother died.”

“There was... an incident some time back—”

Kearnen’s eyes widened. “What kind of incident?”

“He was taken by the Horde for a spell. Came back unharmed, mind, but the King demanded he take time off, regardless.”

The Blade shook her head with a laugh. “Mathias Shaw, taking a vacation. I’ll be damned,” she muttered. 

A hush spread across the room. She noticed a few members of the Alliance whispering to themselves, watching a ghost cross the room. Kearnen turned and watched dumbfounded as the man strode past them, marching towards the Baroness. His long black hair shone under the low lamplight and a red bandana hung around his neck.

“ _Is that?_ ”

“ _It can’t be._ ”

“ _Surely that’s not Edwin VanCleef?_ ”

The Blade excused herself from the demon hunter and dropped back into her Aranakk form, softly stepping behind the wiry man as he climbed the steps to stand before the Baroness. Draka merely raised an eyebrow in question.

“Forgive me for my disobedience, Baroness,” he said, quiet and even, his eyes not quite reaching the orc’s. “I’ll not defy you again.” 

Draka blinked. “Little shadow?” she asked tentatively. “Ed?” He set his mouth in a line, clenching his teeth. “That _is_ your name, is it not?”

He brought his green, necrotic eyes to hers. “Not anymore,” he replied gravely. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Draka nodded in response. He dropped back into the now familiar form of the little shadow with glowing eyes and crouched before crawling up the column of necrotic stone behind her, perching himself on a ledge to be able to watch the crowd below, ushered back to their activities around the Prime Necropolis. 

_It’s Neverland, you seek._ Kearnen had chided before. _You might as well get comfortable here, though. You were lucky to receive a second judgement. This is where you belong._

Never would he wander off. Never would he seek that place again, with its endless treetops to run across and blinking stars that never sang for him. And perhaps, if he were fortunate, he’d never cross paths with the one who abandoned him again.

  
  
  
  
  
@}—>—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for following me on this odd journey along the northern sea and across the realms of the Shadowlands. I've had pieces of this planned to pick up after These Small Hours, along with Draka's Afterlives cinematic. 
> 
> Upon giving a lot of thought on my future plans, the followup to this, Neverland, You Seek, will continue at a later date, and another three part subseries will begin once we arrive to spend the rest of the year with family two states away. A LOT is going to happen, and I needed to get these idiots back to Stormwind. In the immortal words of the Doors, the time to hesitate is through.
> 
> Seriously, thank you to the regulars who pop in and leave kind words. The comments are always appreciated.


End file.
